“Be patient, Charlie. Everything’s going to work out.”

“Well, I guess you’ll know soon enough,” Sal said, tossing something on the kitchen table. “That came for you today.”

The envelope was abnormally long and slim, the paper a shimmery white that gave off flashes of light with every tiny movement. It was addressed, insultingly, not to Charlotte and Reginald Drake of the Bone Clan but to simply “the Smiths.”

The taunting address should have been the first clue to what was inside, but I tore it open with wasted hope in my heart anyway. The inner paper had none of the sparkle of the envelope, and it was emblazoned with the Elder Seat motto in stark black ink:

By Blood and Bone, By Starlight and Shadow

Below the motto, a simple message read:

Dearest Charlotte and Reginald Smith,

Your request has been carefully considered, but as you may know, custom—if not law—dictates that any appeal of judgment must be sponsored by a representative of a recognized vampire clan. As such, it is the council’s decision to decline to hear your appeal.

Best wishes to you both in your new life.

Most sincerely,

The Representatives of the Elder Seat

“Oh sure,” I sneered. “They considered it carefully. So carefully I bet they gave themselves a paper cut with how fast they threw our letter in the trash.”

Reg tilted his head to one side. “Vampires don’t get paper cuts—”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!”

“Charlie, calm down.” Reg held his hands up and backed away as if I were a bomb about to go off.

Because I was.

“How can you take this so—so—casually. Like you’re not insulted or furious or—or like you don’t even care at all!”

“It’s not that I don’t care, Charlie. It’s that I am unsurprised. And neither should you be. Sal warned us we were unlikely to get an appeal without a sponsor.”

“So, what then?” I asked, my shouting taking on a desperate edge. “What do we do now?”

Reg turned his hands from their defensive position to a palms-up, helpless gesture.

I could not look at it, could not bear the fact that while his hands looked helpless, his face looked indifferent. I wheeled around to Sal, instead.

“Well?” I demanded. “What’s next?”

Sal stroked his beard, a look of actual pity in his eyes. “You know how I feel about your quest to get back to that . . . life. But still, I’m sorry this didn’t work out the way you hoped.”

“Don’t you pity me!”

“Charlie!” Reg admonished. “There’s no need to be rude.”

I spun back to Reg. “It’s him, isn’t it? He’s the reason you don’t care.”

“Who? Sal?”

“Poe.” I was breathing heavy now. An annoying but well-timed reminder of my incessant mortality. “You don’t really want to be vampire again. Because of him!”